


Rulers and Rebellions

by jfrost092



Category: Tyranny (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Magic, Rebellion, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 11:48:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8843545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jfrost092/pseuds/jfrost092
Summary: A southerner among the agents of Tunon, Aleric returns home at the head of an army. The Tiers quickly fall into the mire of war and destruction, and after it ends the memories of his betrayals continue to haunt him. Now, with the word of Kyros in his hands, a Fatebinder of torn loyalties must now decide the fate of the last embers of resistance. He must now either rise to rule, or be stomped out like all those that challenged the will of the Overlord before him.





	

“Aleric”

I turned to see Master Varin coming up the walk way, setting aside the watering can I stood and bowed as he grew closer.

“What can I do for you Master?”

He simply stood staring for a time before speaking, “Has sometime in manning the gardens brought you back to your senses acolyte?”

Ah…I knew the other masters wouldn’t be able to resist running to him with the tale, if Adam didn’t what his foot encased in ice, then he shouldn’t have been trying to stomp on the younger students.

“Yes, master.” Maybe he would believe the lie? The snort of derision that followed but that particular hope to rest.

“If it wasn’t such a waste of talent, I would have you whipped and banished, if just to be done with you.” His old worn face cracking as he scowled, his disgust for me clear as day. “Why in Kyros’s good grace did I get stuck teaching a filthy southerner like you?”

He turned to storm off then, his bile momentarily spent, “Get to classes!”

I dove off at the order, Master Varin wasn’t one to be disobeyed.

Seven Tree Guild was a beautiful place, the thickly wooded grounds filling the air with a scent of pine and moss as I sprinted to make the lesson. I was tired though, my legs heavy and my body covered in dirt and compost from tending the large garden throughout the night.

The guild, much like all of the north, had little patience was anyone that came from the still free…unenlightened…places. There was hardly a day when I didn’t miss the mountains of Apex, the grand spire rising at its heart, most days it still feels like I can see it over the horizon.

I would never go back, a disgraced noble family has no place there.

My father, the ever proud noble, reduced to shoveling shit for the other villager’s. Or, at least, that’s what he used to do.

Flinching away from the memory, the feeling of fire on my face, the echoes screams as the dead gave thanks for avoiding the horrors then beset upon the living.

“Maybe class would do me some good after all…”

Skipping would probably get me another night of garden duty after all, and a few hours of class was a small price to pay for the chance of a few uninterrupted hours on my cot.

Rounding the last corner brings me to the sight of the advanced class taking their seats at the instructor’s feet, “Practical application today then.” Normally the classes were held in the small instruction areas, but actual use was never to be done inside the guild halls. “To many novices, with too little restraint” was the official line, though looking back on my first lesson on using fire, it’s understandable.

The instructor looked at my appearance, “Must you southerners’ always be so filthy?”

Laughter erupted over the small gathering of thirty students. Considering they were all around sixteen, and I was eight, I don’t know why they think they’re in any position to laugh. “Respectfully fellow acolytes, if I was being outclassed by a child half my age, I don’t think laughter would be my response.”

The group quieted at that, some gapped openly, while others appeared to fume with anger and indignation. That magic came so easily to me was a sore spot for nearly all of the guild. That I, a “barbarian southerner”, could outclass good northern bred acolytes, was a true travesty to them.

“Enough” I look to the instructor again, his condescending sneer only marginally diminished. He looked like he was getting ready to deliver another round of insults when the air began to shake, the distant sound of the drums rung out all around us.

“Scarlet Chorus…”

***

I shot awake in a cold sweat, the memories still plaguing me more than a decade later.

“Just one damn night…” I was broken from my stupor when the flap of my tent was opened, the iron helm of a Disfavored peering in.

“Fatebinder, the General calls for you at once.”

His head disappears as quickly as it came, the heavy foot falls of iron boots disappear quickly, lost among the shuffle of work slaves and troops rousing for the day.

Swinging my legs over the side of my cot, I attempted to shake loose the last vestiges of the memory. I had never expected to set foot back into the Tiers, “Truly, the whims of the Overlord can bring me to strange places.”

My legs were shaky at first when I stood, the unit of Disfavored scouts had seen fit to, once again, attempt to drown me in ale. Or as they put it, celebrate with the “Harbinger” who got the Bastard City to throw open their gates without a fight.

I cringed at the thought, the trail of dead nobles and garrison commanders I had left dead during my time inside the city while the armies marched, was still a source of fear for the nobles here.

“The Archon of Shadows would be so proud”

Chuckling at the thought as I made my way the water barrel to get last night’s grime off of me, the reflection staring back was the same as ever. My pale skin was common enough among the people of the Tiers, though my blood red hair and near glowing topaz eyes were a mark of my descent.

The jagged scar running from my left eye down to my hip was ever present in my reflection, a gift from Bleden Mark after I finally managed to land a strike against him. Even with healing from the mages at the capital, the wound still took weeks to seal completely.

I got the message though, he could have killed me back then whenever he wanted, so I best stay humble, or he just might change his mind.

Never could figure out if he was the best teacher I ever had, or the very worst.

I dried off quickly enough and grabbed my Fatebinder regalia, we weren’t required to wear the armor, or in my case, the robes, of Turon’s court. They also didn’t supply us with other options, so most Fatebinders just kept to what we were given unless we found better options out on assignment. Placing my staff of ice in the holster at my back, I exited the tent to the typical scene of organized chaos.

It was likely to stay this way for a time, the new camp slaves of the Disfavored would take time to learn their roles. The new recruits among the Chorus would need to be thinned of the eventual deserters and those to kind of heart to survive amongst the butchers and madmen.

There was a rhythm to campaigns like this, and I had a habit of always finding myself folded into armies on one battlefield or another. Though there was one clear difference here, blending two contradictory forces like the Disfavored and the Scarlet Chorus was only asking for trouble.

“What was Kyros thinking?”

It was madness trying to force these groups to work together, even their Archons were always at each other’s throats. I made my way to the command tent, the Bastard City might have been won, by Tunon had taken it for himself almost immediately, and the armies were not allowed in for any reason other than to deliver messages or stand trial. Soldiers loyal to the Adjudicator garrisoned the city, his standard precaution against those who might attempt to scheme.

I could hear the sounds of arguing as I opened the tents flap, “You can’t believe I would care about this?”

“The Chorus has the right to conscript any enemy we please, besides, your walking iron buckets already butchered most of them regardless.”

“Gentlemen, might I ask what this is all about?” Graven Ashe and the Voices of Nerat looked slightly taken aback by my cavalier interruption. I learned early that the only way to get these two to stop fighting, was to focus their irritation somewhere else.

Unfortunately, that normally meant myself.

“Show some respect, Fatebinder.” Iron Marshal Erenyos looked ready to lop my head from my shoulders, I could only hope she wasn’t stupid enough to try. Killing the Archon of War’s second would do nothing for co-operation.

“Fatebinder, we’ve been waiting on you,” That couldn’t have sounded any more like an accusation if he had pointed that giant hammer of his at me while he said it.

“Apologies, my Lords.” I gave a slight bow, dealing with the pride of Archons could be challenging at times. “I’m only three days back from the expedition to subjugate Ardent. While you no doubt know of our success, the journey robbed me of much in the way of sleep. I’m afraid the chance for a break was too tempting, I’ve decided to advantage of the relative peace of your camp while I remain.”

Graven Ashe glared while the Voice of Nerat merely chortled at it all, I imagine most of the world is little more than a joke to the man. Though attributing humanity to Nerat would be a gross misunderstanding of the creature.

“The tidecasters of Apex, I assume you remember your former home, yes?” Nerat didn’t stop long to enjoy the gasps that sounded from most of the room, it was never something I attempted to hide, if they were surprised, then it was their own ignorance at fault.

“Well, the Disfavored here, went and killed them all. That lumbering excuse of an Archon killed their teacher and then her students, the Chorus would have liked some survivors you know?”

The mad twirling of the Nerat’s mace caused a now familiar headache to begin, the Archon had a bad habit of always trying to get into the heads of the people around him. Fatebinders are taught to resist such techniques, though that doesn’t stop the blighted thing from whispering, if not reading, into my mind all the same.

“They were a threat, and the now they are not. It is as simple as that, and your whining like a child over it is pathetic.” Leave it to Graven Ashe to make any questioning of his armies actions a personal insult.

“Enough if you would, the Chorus’s mandate of recruitment does not require survivors be left behind, only that you have the option to recruit those that are.”

“Damn yapping law dog.” Not murdering Fifth Eye was a constant exercise in restraint for me, had the man never learned to watch that tongue of his?

“Fine, but since you seem so keen on issues surrounding Apex, I think a Fatebinders’ presence there would be oh so welcomed there.” Nerat looked far too happy with himself, I get the idea though. I don’t side with him, so he’ll send me off to watch as Kyros’s forces butcher and rape across my home.

I waited for Graven Ashe to comment, but he simply nods in agreement. Likely feeling that my tendency to side with the Disfavored would only benefit his army if any disagreements came about.

“Very well, I’ll set out immediately then.” With a stiff bow I turned and left the tent, Nerat’s tittering giggles sending chills down my spine for days to come as I marched toward home.

***

Edgering fort was a ruin now, I passed through it in horror of what had become of the once grand structure. Countless armies had been repelled off of its walls, but the Archon of Stone smashed through it with startling ease.

The Disfavored commander here now thought me a traitor in disguise, my allowing of the Marriage Bed Armistice had been a sign of sedition to him. Though the Scarlet Chorus called it a good faith gesture that was likely to save them many recruits in the weeks to come. Considering we’re about to enter their strong hold, the Mountain Spire of Vendrien’s Well, they were likely right.

With the Disfavored Commander, Ceveus to my right, and the Chorus Commander, Mocking Blaze to my left, we made our way to the throne room beneath the safety of the blue flag.

“Aleric?”

The gasps of horror around the room were followed by complete silence, the Queen of Apex, Amelia Vendrien, standing from her throne in shock. The Disfavored and Chorus at my sides look confused and on alert from any treachery.

Theirs or mine.

“It has been many years’ cousin, though I wish our reunion could be under better circumstances.” I holdout my empty hands out to her, showing that I meant no harm. The tension in the room was still high, but with a nod from their Queen the soldiers release their grip on their blades.

“I come as an emissary of Kyros, the Overlord of all Terratus, with an offer of peace and mercy.”

***

Three days of arguing, but finally they signed the treaty. Apex had fallen, but I managed to save most of its people. “As per the agreement, the people, formally of the Kingdom of Apex, will henceforth be placed under the protection of Kyros’ Peace. This agreement shall stand so long as the people of these lands abide by it in turn.”

“Thank you. Aleric.” She softly, not wanting the others nearby to overhear. Or perhaps she was simply not able to muster the strength to say it louder. Over the last three days I had seen much of her strength leave her, she seemed to frail now, I couldn’t help but wonder how much my “betrayal” had played into her failing health.

There was already talk of my “treason” with such an agreement. It wouldn’t get them very far though, I knew the laws of Kyros, and none of them had been violated with this treaty. The lands of Apex had fallen, and any argument they could bring had valid counters. Or the moment, I was safe in my position from their reprisals.

Besides, my home was more important to me than a long life as one of Tunon’s mouth pieces. “Take care of yourself, cousin.”  

I stood up and steadily walked out of the room, I still couldn’t risk…

“Thank you, Peacebinder.”

The title was uttered over and over again as I slowly made my way out of the hall, the Vendrien Guard bowed their heads as I passed. The Guard had served the family since Apex was founded, I’m glad to see them here with their Queen at its end.

***

“You can’t do this!” The Disfavored always seemed to yell the loudest for some reason.

“The Archon of Song was put the effort into bringing back these captives, and the Scarlet Chorus has the right to conscript them. You, however, did not have the right to butcher prisoners that had already been claimed.” The five disfavored sputtered in indignation, likely their iron made all the slaves in their camps rather prone to agree with their every word.

“It is by the law of Kyros that all forbidden knowledge be exterminated, the sages were too dangerous to let live.” The other four nodded along with their supposed “leader”.

Fools, he’s led them into a path with no return.

“Do not presume to lecture a Fatebinder on the law of Kyros soldier, or you may find yourself at its mercy.” I let the statement hang in the air for a moment, the weight of the silence was likely suffocating to them.

“You have robbed the Archon of Song of personal recruits, and so you will replace them. As my authority as Fatebinder I shall deliver my verdict, you shall serve as the Archon’s personal guard from hence forth.”

Behind me Sirin clapped and bounced in place like a giddy child. “The Voices of Nerat may be rubbing off on her.” I couldn’t help but cringe at the thought, the world had enough monsters in it as it was.

“Come along my toy soldiers, and let’s get acquainted.” The men groaned and grumbled about injustice as they trailed behind her retreating form. Sirin would likely enthrall them, I had seen her do it before at the beginning of the invasion, though from what I hear she hadn’t kept the capture soldiers.

She wasn’t cruel to her people, at least not conventionally.

There were times when the Archon of Song reminded me of a child, always wanting to find a place for herself, but never understanding what place she really wanted. Even with all of her power, she often seemed as lost as any of us.

She was beautiful though, terrifying mind you, but beautiful.

I shook the thought away quickly, I had too much to think of already without adding to my problems by fantasizing about my betters.

The Chorus had just finished hauling in five crates worth of scrolls before Sirin had demanded my attention. Some sages had tried to make a run for it, and they had taken a wagons worth of scrolls with them. A party of Disfavored had set to burning all of the material after executing the sages, the Chorus hadn’t take the situation at all well.

Finally, I had gotten them to a compromise, meaning I had simply ended up overruling both sides and forcing a middle ground. Half the scrolls would be burn by the Disfavored, and the other half I would sort through for anything considered “forbidden”, before handing it over to them.

Five hours into the sorting and I’ve only gotten a single crate worth finished, though that might have something to do with me having taken my time with the scrolls. It wasn’t every day I got my hands on this much possibly forbidden knowledge.

I’ve had to destroy a few caches of forbidden knowledge thought-out the empire over my time as a Fatebinder, not before personally verifying the content was truly forbidden of course. Generally, the writings were things about the Archons or the time before Kyros rose to power that the Overlord would rather history forgot.

Occasionally though, there would be a something worth learning. Spells that had been forgotten, usually ones crafted at the hands of past Archons that were honestly dangerous in the wrong hands. I had taken to memorizing such scrolls before destroying them, I’d have rather kept them. Eventually though, they’d have been discovered by another Fatebinder, or even Bleden Mark in one of his more mischievous moods.

I still couldn’t use the spells I had learned though, they required more power than I currently possessed. “A powerful naturally internal magic” is how the scrolls had defined it, I was still trying to find what that meant.

All magic was generated by the individual preforming the spell, there was exceptions of course. Earthshakers’ for one harmonized their magic with the ground beneath them to amplify their control, it meant the longer they had to get familiar with their territory, the more dangerous they became.

The current scroll I was on, however, was far too interesting to consider handing over. It held forbidden knowledge regardless, anything regarding internalized magic fell under the definition.

“A focus on channeling and absorbing the energy of foci”, not the exactly the most exiting title. The information inside however, was a brilliant and confusing. It talked of focusing a source of magic bound to an individual into harmonizing and assimilating the magic essence of the foci into one’s self.

It also warned that attempting to do so without an already powerful naturally internal magic, would result in the individual suffering a quick and horrifyingly painful death. There were later noted added at the end of the scroll from experiment the sages had performed, the details of the results were likely one of Nerat’s wet dreams.

I spent the next two hours memorizing every detail before burning the scroll, another waste of knowledge the world could never reclaim.

It was dawn on the third day when I was finally finished, only about fifty of the five hundred scrolls ended up having to be disposed of. Even then only about ten of them had anything worth memorizing, a few spells of the late Rin, Second Archon of Lightening, were an incredible discovery.

Even if they were currently useless to me as I am.

As the last of the scrolls of taken away by the Chorus another individual steps in my tent,

“Long time no see, Aleric.”

“Calio, I wasn’t aware Tunon was sending another Fatebinder…” The man simply shook his head, his ever present purple turban rustling as he did so.

“I’m not here to help you over see this siege, but rather to deliver you the means to put it to an end.” It almost felt as if time slowed as Calio reached to his back and pulled the ornate scroll from his pack.

He walked up to my desk, holding the dreadful thing as if it were some sort of sacred relic. “I present to you, Fatebinder Aleric, the Edict of Fire, and place upon you, by word of Kyros, the honor of proclamation.

My hands shook as I took the scroll, the dreadful thing seemed to almost hum happily as the restrained power of it ran across my skin. I felt something deem inside of myself, a hunger for the power of it, and almost craving to proclaim it here and now.

“I shall see it done.”

Calio merely and gave me a nod of acknowledgement, likely believe that my sharing voice was from being shocked by the “honor” of proclamation. There was no honor in this though, just madness and destruction.

***

It hadn’t taken much convincing from the Scarlet Chorus about their lingering spies inside the Citadel to get me to agree to give them a warning, if only to save a few more lives. The sages had at least headed my words, a had seen servants and sages alike flee the soon to be damned safe haven.

I was used to killing, I wrought death and fear throughout the Bastard City, ended countless lives with my magic in service to Tunon and Kyros. Necessary evil, that was what I believed I was.

Killing a few so that many would not need to die instead, I was willing to pay the price, to bear the blood and the hate that came with the role.

This, however, was not necessary. It was not warranted…not needed.

Not right.

The air itself seemed to burn with a horrid sort of furry, the fire etched its way through the stone as the landscape was forever marred in flame. The horrid screams of those to stubborn to flee their home echoed over even the cheers of the blood thirsty armies at my heel.

The “honorable” Disfavored…simply a better equipped, and more self-delusive, version of the murderous hoard that was the Scarlet Chorus.

I turned my back on all of it. The dying screams, the bellowing righteous armies, and my own shame. Taking step, after heavy step, back towards the Bastard City. My job in this bloody campaign, was finally at its end.

 


End file.
